Dedication
by Empanada de Pizza
Summary: I'm gonna be wounded. I'm gonna be your wound. I'm gonna bruise you. You're gonna be my bruise. Style


_South Park belongs to Trey and Matt._

When Stan began drinking, not just taking a shot or two of whiskey or vodka, Kyle was the only one who would help him deal. Kyle would always go out of his way to make sure Stan was taken care of when intoxicated, so he wouldn't hurt himself. And Stan appreciated that, more than he could ever put into words. Luckily for him, he could show Kyle his appreciating through physical means instead.

The first time he told Kyle "thank you" was when they were sixteen, and Kyle was admitting to Stan that his mother was giving him a hard time due to his "announcement". Why he never outright said what he meant, that he had come out to his family, and now he was coming out to his best friend, Stan never understood. Upon seeing the redhead's face flush with sadness, Stan did the only thing that he felt would make them both feel better. Stan kissed him. It wasn't the best kiss in the world, just a light peck on the lips, but the look of admiration on Kyle's face more than made up for it.

Stan didn't drink for three weeks after that day.

Then his sister left. Not for college, or to start her life or anything profound like that. No, she just left. No goodbye, no word on where she was going. Just gone. Randy wasn't aware that beers were starting to go missing, if only because he was always drunk himself.

Kyle showed up a few days later. Stan hadn't moved from his bed to do anything but pee and steal more beer. Kyle sighed, sitting on the bed, and pulling Stan into his arms. The two sat like that for some undetermined amount of time, Kyle gently running his hand through Stan's unwashed hair, Stan staring blankly at the wall. Stan looked up, seeing Kyle watching him with no emotion playing on his face.

"I miss my sister."

"I know, dude."

That simple statement opened the floodgates. Stan cried for hours. Kyle just held him and let him cry.

Stan didn't drink again for an entire two months, much to Kyle's delight.

Two weeks after that day in Stan's room, Stan murmured "I love you" into Kyle's ear, in between moans of pleasure and kisses along sweaty skin. Kyle grasped at Stan's arm wrapped around him, the declaration echoed in a breathy voice as their bodies moved in unison.

After that, Stan stayed sober for a whole month more.

But as they got older, Stan found he enjoyed drinking. He enjoyed bring drunk. And he enjoyed Kyle being there to make sure that he was taken care of, no matter what that meant.

* * *

><p>Stan groaned as he sat up from the living room floor where he'd either fallen asleep or, the more likely scenario, he passed out. Again. Stretching his arms over his head, he groaned again as he felt more than heard the bones pop. Either he needed to learn to control where he passed out, or he just needed to quit drinking altogether. Having been drinking since he was 10, he figured it would be easier to try the first one.<p>

"Kyle?" he called out, his voice scratchy from… he didn't know from what. He started making his way the living room, taking in the upturned furniture. The ottoman was turned on its side, the sofa too. The one desk lamp as lying broken near the television, on the opposite end of the room where it normally sat on a messy desk- Kyle's desk. And Kyle never allowed his desk to become messy.

'What the hell happened last night?' Stan thought, taking in the damage to the room. Fear started to take over his movements.

Stepping out of the living room, he began trekking towards the bedroom. Something glimmering in the kitchen caught his eye. Stan paused, leaning against a wall as his head throbbed. He could vaguely remember yelling, and glass shattering, before he blanked out.

"Kyle!" he called out again, this time with more urgency. As quickly as he could, he turned towards the kitchen. "Fuck! Ow!"

He looked down to his foot, which was bleeding from what looked like a broken beer bottle. More flashes of the night before hit him.

"_I'm coming back, I promise! I just don't think… I want to make sure that…"_

"_Fuck you, Kyle! I KNOW what you're thinking! You're not going anywhere!"_

Nausea that had nothing to do with his hangover came over him full force. Ignoring it, and his bleeding foot, Stan went into the kitchen. Just like the living room, it was a mess. This was worse, though. It looked as though every single drawer and cabinet was opened, and their contents were thrown about the kitchen. Dishes and glasses were shattered everywhere he turned his head. Cutlery as strewn about as well.

Stan walked around the kitchen tenderly, trying to avoid stepping on too much broken glass. As it was, now both feet were bleeding. And his nerves were eating at him.

"Ky-" he started to call out once more. His voice caught in his throat. He'd found Kyle in the doorway from the kitchen into the dining room, lying in a pool of blood. How long had he been lying there? "Oh fuck! Oh my god, Kyle!"

Ignoring his bleeding feet, and the broken plates, glasses, bottles and various other things in his way, Stan ran over to his prone lover. Stan jumped over Kyle, pulling the younger man against him, taking in his appearance. Bruises marred his face, one of his eyes completely swollen. There was a giant knot on his forehead, blood trailing from the split skin there. Blood was also coming from cuts all throughout his face and neck. Despite the tears that were beginning to fall, Stan could see the trail of fingermarks that littered Kyle's neck. He tried wiping away his tears before placing a trembling hand on Kyle, searching for a sign of life. He'd put his hand against Kyle's neck, sobbing in relief at the heartbeat he'd felt underneath his fingers.

Stan was shaking now. Seeing the state that Kyle was in, he knew exactly what had happened. And he felt like throwing up.

_Kyle flinched as another glass was thrown at him. It shattered against the wall next to him, spraying him with shards of glass. He tried running out of the living room after Stan had punched him, but that seemed to make Stan angrier. That resulted in the desk lamp being thrown at him, hitting him against the temple._

"_Stan, please listen to me. You need to calm- Fuck!" Kyle cried out as a fork was embedded in his arm. "Stan, please! Please calm down!"_

_Stan glared at Kyle from where he stood next to the sink. He was quickly running out of thing to throw. And he was getting pissed at listening to Kyle telling him to calm down. He would calm down when Kyle shut the fuck up!_

_Kyle was backing out of the room, trying not to be too obvious as Stan prowled around him. "Stan, I'm bleeding. I'm going to the bathroom to get something to clean that, ok. Stay in the kitchen, I'll be right back."_

_Stan wasn't paying attention to a word Kyle was saying. He just saw him trying to leave the room, which only served to make him angrier. "Where the FUCK are you going?" he growled._

_Kyle flinched. He'd never been afraid of Stan drunk before, but something about the way he was glaring at Kyle made his blood turn cold. He'd seen Stan as a temperamental drunk, an emotional drunk, and a happy drunk. He knew how to handle all of those emotions. He's never seen Stan as an angry drunk, and he was silently praying that he never would again._

"_I told you, I'm just going to the bathroom. I'm coming back, I promise!" Stan started making his was to Kyle, who was backing away just as quickly. He started stuttering in fear, "I just don't think… I want to make sure that…" Stan made it to Kyle before he realized what was going on. Suddenly Kyle was on the floor, looking up at Stan. Stan had his hands clenched into fists, and was visibly shaking in his rage. _

"_Fuck you, Kyle!" Stan spat. He pulled Kyle up by the hair, causing him to cry out in pain. "I KNOW what you're thinking! You're not going anywhere!" Stan swung his fist again, connecting with Kyle's cheek. Blood started to pour out of Kyle's mouth, his eye beginning to swell. "You are staying right here!"_

_Stan wrapped the hand not holding Kyle's hair was now wrapped around his neck, chocking him. Kyle put his hands on the arm holding him, trying desperately to get Stan to let him go. He knew he wasn't anywhere near as strong as Stan. He tried scratching Stan's arm to get him to let go, but that only made Stan smack his head against the wall. He was quickly loosing air, and spots were forming in his vision. The last thing Kyle made out before everything went black was Stan saying "You are staying right here!"_

In the kitchen, the phone began to ring. That startled Stan, and he pulled Kyle closer to him. He debated on answering the phone, but decided against it. What if it was Kenny? What would he could he say to their friend if he asked how Kyle was? What if it was Kyle's family? What if they wanted to talk to him? He wasn't able to answer the phone, he was fucking unconscious! Because Stan has nearly killed him in a drunken rage.

Even if it wasn't his family, it was someone they knew. And Stan didn't want them to know what he'd done. Because then Kyle would be taken away from him. And despite how much he probably deserved it, Stan couldn't let Kyle go.

The phone stopped ringing.

Stan just sat on the floor, holding on to Kyle for dear life and crying. They were Super Best Friends. They were lovers. Stan couldn't let Kyle go. Kyle was everything that was Stan. Without Kyle, the only thing Stan had left was drinking. And he didn't know if wanted drinking anymore. It was an awful cycle.

Without Kyle, all he has was booze. And so he drank his pain away. With Kyle he was happy, so he drank in celebration.

But as he was sitting in the house silent of everything except his hiccuping sobs, Stan realized he had to give one up, or he would lose the other one forever. Kyle was dedicated to Stan. It was time Stan returned the favor.


End file.
